


Subliminally, For You

by watermelonikaz



Category: Holostars, Virtual Streamer Animated Characters
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Genderless Main Character, M/M, Short & Sweet, Valentines, unnamed main character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29493075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watermelonikaz/pseuds/watermelonikaz
Summary: Temma isn't sure when, how, or why his feelings changed for the stranger-turned-friend he'd met online. All he knows is that his confession didn't go as planned and now he has to spend Valentines working instead.MC is referred to as they/them with no defined gender.
Relationships: Kishido Temma/Unnamed Character
Kudos: 9





	Subliminally, For You

**Author's Note:**

> For naut, who needed to read more nice Temma after everything we put him through.

_I did it for me_

_Admittedly, I probably did it_

_Subliminally_

_For you_

_-Not Afraid, Eminem_

It started, like most things did, in the most mundane way -- one planned meeting that had turned into two, and then three, and then something weekly. Infrequent messages that then morphed into daily ‘good mornings’ and ‘good nights’. Apathy converted into anticipation with the passage of time.

An accidental brush of shoulders at the station as they got in line. A pat on the back that lingered a bit longer than usual when Temma’s stop was approaching. A fond smile accompanying the cheerful ‘see you next week!’

It was completely casual. Ordinary. Boring, even. Maybe that’s why Temma didn’t notice until weeks later. And when he did, he doubted himself immediately. Was he imagining something special when there wasn’t really anything between them but friendship?

“What?!” Taro was saying, his laughter over the voicecall loud as usual. Temma figured it was a Kansai thing. He was getting flashbacks of Roberu all of a sudden, and he shook his head slightly to focus. This was his _other_ group of friends. The _normal_ ones -- or as normal as one got nowadays, anyway. “You have to do what for valentines?! Dude, Temma, that sounds stressful. Will you even survive talking to that many people?”

“He’s sociable,” came the quiet murmur. Temma wasn’t going to admit his stomach did a little flip when he heard that particular voice. “He’ll be fine.”

“Sociable? You mean he starts off well then messes up midway!”

“Haha! That sounds like a medical issue!”

The rest of their friends laughed and Temma joined in belatedly, feeling a little bit embarrassed. He loved his friends, to be sure, but they showed their support in a way that was sometimes a little bit uncomfortable.

Perhaps he should’ve expected that a group of people pulled together from different lifestyles -- some of them were here from university, some from work, some just randomly dragged in by other friends -- showed affection by teasing. He could probably count on a single hand the amount of times they had actually gotten serious about anything, with half of those moments still somehow ending up in attempts at comedy afterwards to lighten the mood. 

It still stung a little bit, however.

He didn’t know when he’d become sensitive. Probably after he’d spent so much time streaming and getting to know the other Holostars. There was a sincerity in the way everyone interacted, and Temma had gotten swept up in their pace over time. He’d fallen deep into the hole, so to speak, and he didn’t want to climb out. Not anymore.

He may have started out doing this as a part-time thing for fun and extra cash, but now he was invested. And it kinda hurt when his friends still treated it like it was a separate thing from him. A life he faked and then turned off when he wasn’t streaming.

_“You okay?”_

The message popped up on his LINE, even if the sender was very obviously online in their Discord and participating in the call that had now moved on to talking about the pizza one of them had eaten the other day. Cheap and yet instantly causing indigestion. Temma wanted to talk about Aruran, but he knew the others wouldn’t be able to relate so he stayed silent.

 _“Yeah, thanks,”_ Temma typed out, knowing the words didn’t capture what he really wanted to say to the one person in this friend group that seemed attuned to his moods.

This person had always been like this, now that Temma thought about it. Supporting him, checking up on him, being an overall great friend despite starting off as a random match-up in an online game. Why had he only noticed now? And did it mean anything beyond friendship?

The typing indicator was up for a long time before he received the next message.

_“Do you want to meet before Saturday this week? Tomorrow, lunch, the usual place?”_

* * *

It was probably a testament to how well they now knew each other that when Temma arrived at the small ramen shop, everything seemed timed down to the second. His bowl of ramen was set before him moments after he’d sat down, and his friend didn’t even look up from their phone.

“You’re late,” his friend said, slipping their phone back into their pocket and finally looking up to smile at Temma. “I ordered for you.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Temma said, feeling his cheeks flush automatically. Dimly, at the back of his mind, he was wondering where all his words had gone. Was their conversation going to be reduced to this from now on? His friend doing all the talking and him saying variations of ‘yes’ and ‘thank you’?

Was this what it felt like to be a tongue-tied fan? He felt suddenly sympathetic to the people who could only gape at him and gesture vaguely back during the Animate event.

They ate in silence for a while and Temma wondered how to broach the subject. How did one confess to someone they’d known for what seemed like both forever and not long enough? And should he even confess? These little meetings had become a bit more commonplace over the past few months, but maybe Temma was just imagining them getting closer.

“You seem a bit down lately,” his friend started, and before Temma could formulate a response to that, a hand had reached across the admittedly very compact table and pressed itself against his forehead briefly before pulling away. “Are you sick?”

“No,” Temma breathed out, more of a surprised exhalation than anything else. He was glad he didn’t have noodles in his mouth or he might have choked.

Why had their skin felt so warm against his? Maybe he was getting sick after all.

His friend was smiling, and the relief in their eyes was making Temma feel things he didn’t want to feel. What was happening to him and _why now_? He didn’t want to ruin this one good thing just when they’d finally settled into what seemed like a routine.

“Oh, good. You’re a bit red though. Is the ramen spicy? I could’ve sworn I told them to hold back on the--”

“Are you seeing anyone?” Temma blurted out, his mouth getting ahead of his brain as it seemed to always do when he was trying to be calm, cool, and collected. “For valentines, I mean. Are you doing-- uh. What are your plans on--”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” his friend laughed. There was something mischievous in their eyes now and Temma was suddenly very much aware of the small space between their knees in this cramped corner of the restaurant.

He shifted his leg, feeling their legs press against each other’s. Temma watched his friend’s expression carefully for any sign of alarm or discomfort but there was none. Their knees rested against each other’s without anyone bringing it up.

Temma felt a bit like dying on the spot, but he tried to ignore it by shoveling food into his mouth. Was it too hot in this restaurant? Had the air conditioner broken?

“Know what?” he asked when he finally stopped trying to inhale his noodles. He hadn’t realized the conversation had stopped after he’d made contact under the table. Should he pull away? Wouldn’t that make it obvious now that the first movement hadn’t been an accident?

“I have a date on valentines,” Temma’s friend said, that mischievous look still on their face. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Temma moved his leg away at that particular sentence and stumbled out an awkward-sounding congratulations that made him want to hurl himself off the nearest cliff. His friend didn’t say anything for a moment, the mischief on their face replaced by concern, before even that was gone and their expression settled into contemplative.

“You’re not going to ask who it is, Temma?”

“No,” Temma said, the answer coming out a bit too sharp. He sucked in a breath, waving away the worry he could already feel was coming. “I’m sure they’re great. Have fun. You can tell me about the date afterwards.”

“Right,” his friend said, nodding. They moved the topic to something else afterwards, asking about Temma’s streaming schedule -- as if Temma had one beyond waking up and waiting for inspiration to hit on most days -- and acting normal by all accounts.

Temma didn’t know whether he was relieved or disappointed by the nonchalance of his companion. He felt a bit like he wanted to cry and he hated himself for it.

* * *

Valentines was… something. It was busy, it was loud, it was all sorts of exhilarating. Temma didn’t have time to dwell on his problems -- were they even problems or just him being needlessly dramatic? Maybe he’d watched too much emotional anime -- as he tried to keep up an energetic mood during the Talking Festival.

Everyone he met was interesting. People from all over the world -- he hadn’t realized how far his viewership had spread, because seeing statistics on his Youtube page was different from talking to actual people from different countries -- and all over Japan. They were all lovely, even the men. 

He wished the next time would be longer. Three minutes didn’t seem like enough time to converse with his fans and he wanted to talk at length with each and every one of them. To tell them how much he appreciated their coming to him, _choosing him_ \-- a nobody, an average boy who had dreamed and was lucky enough to get a chance to act on that dream -- and liking him enough to want to talk to him.

Even if they forgot him afterwards, he was glad to have known them. To have been special to them in a way he hadn’t experienced before.

_It’s too bad the one person you want to see isn’t here, huh?_

Temma ignored the little voice at the back of his mind and trudged on. The day was far from over and he didn’t have time to wallow in self-pity.

He hoped his friend was enjoying that godforsaken date. If their date made them cry, Temma would be more than happy to get revenge for them.

* * *

“This is the shortest date I’ve ever been on. Just three minutes? Talk about _speed dating_.”

One look at the speaker and Temma had forgotten his introduction already. His words were stuck in his throat and he couldn’t get them out. A staff-member pinged him to ask if his mic was muted.

“Hello, Temma,” his friend laughed. There was that mischievous look on their face again, and Temma wanted to reach into the screen and smack them. Or hug them. Or both. “I’m a big fan.”

“I see,” Temma said, trying and failing to come up with anything else. His brain was short-circuiting. His friend was _here_ and was calling _this_ a date. “I-- wait. Did you say this is--”

A delighted laugh. This person! They knew exactly what they were doing to Temma, didn’t they?! 

“My valentines date, yes. You’re such a great guy. I think I fell in love with you the moment your voice broke in karaoke.”

“You-- wait. Love? I don’t--”

The staff member pinged him again. Temma ignored it. Didn’t even glance at the message. Didn’t they see he was in the middle of a damned mental breakdown here?!

“Tell me you love me? Don’t idols do that? C’mon, I love you, Temma. Say it back, please?”

“I love you,” Temma whispered. It sounded too sincere, even to his own ears. He wondered if Shinove would lecture him. The only saving grace was that he was using a model for this interaction, so his friend couldn’t see his completely red face.

His friend’s smile was fond and then all at once it was cunning. “Good. Now, can I ask you to sing me a little song?”

* * *

“I hate you,” Temma said later, his hand shaking as he pressed his phone closer to his ear. He walked to the side of his room, stopped, and pressed his forehead against the wall as he closed his eyes and tried to breathe. “I just really hate you.”

“Aw, cute,” his friend cooed. Temma flushed, and wondered if his father would hear if he started kicking at the wall to get rid of all this sudden _energy_ he had. “But didn’t you say you loved me earlier?”

Temma let out a breath. He wasn’t sure what to feel about this new development. When this particular friend teased him, he didn’t feel hurt. In fact, he almost… maybe… kinda… liked it.

“...I didn’t even know you watched me,” Temma said, his voice as shaky as he felt. How many times had he embarrassed himself on stream? Somehow, it was okay when it was strangers watching him, but to think his friend had been there the whole time--

 _Get a grip_ , he told himself. _Maybe that interaction earlier was just them messing with me._

“I watch every stream. I even superchat you every now and then.”

“What the actual--” Temma’s mind was whirling, trying to remember every single username that had flashed through his chat. Trying to recall the username his friend had used for the talking festival. But there was _nothing_. He couldn’t remember. Not right now.

“Oh yeah, Temma? Can you step outside for a bit?”

One day, this person was going to completely and utterly give Temma a heart-attack. Maybe that day was even today. “What? Why?! _Are you outside_?!”

“It’s valentines and I have to give you your chocolates,” they said calmly, as if that was such a natural progression of events and not something completely out of left field. “And I’m getting a bit cold out here, so please?”

* * *

Temma’s heart was going to beat itself out of his chest and he was going to die right here in front of his friend in the most humiliating way possible.

Even as he graciously accepted the chocolates, he was nervous. He tried to think of something to say, but all that came out of his mouth was a squeaky ‘thank you’ that his friend somehow found amusing and laughed at.

“You know, I thought you were onto me before today,” his friend said conversationally, reaching out to open the box in Temma’s hands and pull out a chocolate shaped like a dainty little heart. “Especially the last time we ate ramen. I thought for sure you were going to say something.”

“That’s my chocolate,” Temma complained, his mind still stuck midway between a wise-ass retort and sheer panic at the situation. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had confessed to him face-to-face like this. People -- especially people he liked -- usually ended up seeing him as an adorable little brother to tease and take care of.

Romance was usually off the table, though it did slip through the cracks every now and then only to end abruptly when his partners realized his supposedly ‘cool appearance’ did not match with his actual personality.

“Yes, but I gave it to you,” his friend replied patiently, bringing the small heart close to their lips.

And damn, now Temma was looking at their lips. He hoped it wasn’t obvious. Would it be too bold to ask for a kiss? Wait, what was the process for these things again?

“But it’s mine,” Temma persisted, with a confidence that was sudden and abrupt, but all too familiar to him. “If you eat it, I’ll have to take revenge.”

What the hell was he saying now? And why did his friend find that super funny?!

“Alright, then here,” they said, the laughter softly fading out. Their gaze on him was like he’d hung all the stars in the sky. His breath caught for a moment and then something in him just relaxed, like his mind had finally caught up to the situation he was in and realized it wasn’t a bad thing. “Say aaah.”

The chocolate was held up to his lips and he opened his mouth, feeling their fingers brush gently against his lips as they dropped the chocolate in and then pulled away.

Temma chewed, the taste sweet on his tongue. He watched as they pressed their own fingers to their mouth and winked. “Indirect kiss.”

He coughed, had a brief moment of panic wherein he thought he was going to choke and die, and then finally properly swallowed his chocolate.

“You--” Temma started, his gaze now accusatory. His eyes were burning, but that was because he’d been near death for a moment there!

“Aw, Temma, you look like you’re about to cry. It’s very cute,” his friend laughed. And then they were reaching out, both hands coming up to cup Temma’s face and pulling him closer.

Their first kiss was sweet. Probably because of the chocolate. Temma couldn’t move his hands since they were still holding the box so he could only bend helplessly, closing his eyes and losing himself to the surprisingly tender kiss. It was light and gentle, almost like an apology for teasing him so much.

And all it accomplished was making him want more.

“Happy Valentines, Temma,” they murmured when they pulled away. The smile on their face was now shy and their cheeks were tinged with red that was surely not from the cold. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Temma replied quietly. His eyes roamed from the top of their head and down to the tips of their shoes.

“Come inside,” Temma said finally, having come to a decision he wasn’t sure was wise, but was going to do anyway. He wasn’t the type to stop midway to achieving his goals. Nevermind if he’d just made up the goal right at that very second. “Let’s get you warmed up.”


End file.
